


the most dangerous game (for the world's biggest virgins)

by beanplague



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gay Panic, Humor, M/M, assholes to lovers, i would have tagged enemies to lovers but jumin and zen aren't exactly ENEMIES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 14:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanplague/pseuds/beanplague
Summary: Here lie the written terms of the "TRIAL-RUN RELATIONSHIP" as defined by participants JUMIN HAN and RYU "ZEN" HYUN.The goal on behalf of party A (Zen) is to maintain a healthy relationship with party B (Jumin) for at least 30 days. Both parties must maintain regular contact with each other, and no party may intentionally harm or disadvantage another participant in any way. Should party A succeed, he will receive a substantial monetary payout from party B. Should party B succeed, he will be paid in "catsitting coupons" (redeemable at any point within the next lifetime) and minor advertisement work by party A.[Jumin and Zen engage in the dumbest idea imaginable. Mostly lighthearted romantic comedy with some commentary and discussion of their sexualities.]





	1. Amendment 1

They meet over coffee. Jumin sits quietly in his chair, reading a book, and Zen sits across from him, impatiently drumming his fingers on the table.

“Stop that,” says Jumin, not lifting his eyes from his book. “I find it annoying.”

Near immediately, Zen counters with, “I find you annoying.”

“The feeling is quite mutual.”

They sit in silence for a few more moments, and Zen begins to get a little irritated. “Why am I here?” he asks.

“I wanted to have a chat with you,” says Jumin, and he pauses, “I never thought I would say that sentence in earnest. It’s an interesting change.”

Zen would probably make a snappy comeback, if he weren’t already so done with Jumin. “Then why have we just been sitting here, not talking for—” he looks up at the clock by the front counter, and MC waves happily at him. He waves back, then turns back to Jumin, “five minutes.”

“I wasn’t in a rush,” says Jumin, “and I figured now was as good a time as any to conduct a little experiment and see how long it took for the silence to get to you. That’s the thing about children, you know?” He lifts his head to meet Zen’s eyes. “They can’t stand boredom.”

He looks back down at his book, and Zen briefly ponders if his career could survive the inevitable controversy he would face for murdering the man in front of him. And Jumin is quiet for a few moments longer, giving Zen plenty of time to think, until he opens his mouth once again.

“So,” Jumin says, “What are we?”

There are a few blissful moments where Zen is only attempting to process those stupid, terrible words coming from Jumin’s stupid, terrible mouth. Not that Zen thinks about Jumin’s mouth at all, ever—shut up.

When he does manage to process said terrible words, it’s as if Jumin has poured water directly onto Zen’s motherboard in an attempt to kill him dead. If it were possible to short-circuit in real life, Zen would surely be doing so.

“What _are_ we?” he manages.

Jumin turns a page in his book. “I believe that’s what I said, yes.”

Zen shakes his head, “We aren’t anything. We don’t have anything to do with each other.”

“I see,” says Jumin, “I assumed that was the case. I just wanted to clarify.”

More silence. Zen continues drumming his fingers on the table, now in the midst of developing a distinct rhythm. To be in this situation, he thinks, is surely the universe’s retribution for all his sins. Which ones? That is yet to be figured out. He begins to replay the interaction in his head, and something bothers him.

Jumin _assumed_ that was the case? What does that mean?

Of course, there’s the obvious interpretation—which is that Jumin took the events of last weekend and deduced that they were the product of a lot of drinking between both parties. Then there’s the explanation Zen falls on, which is that Jumin thinks he’s some kind of commitment-phobic playboy. An astrological leap, to be sure.

And who is _Jumin_ to make this assumption of _Zen,_ who is totally dedicated to anything he puts his mind to— _including_ relationships, thank you very much. Jumin, on the other hand, has probably walked through all of his relationships with indifference, letting them pass as quickly as they arrived. Last weekend probably didn’t even mean anything to him. In fact, that’s probably Jumin’s _every_ weekend, and Zen is one of many—

In the midst of Zen’s spiral, Jumin speaks again, “You can dismiss yourself. I’m waiting on a cup of coffee.”

“—I’m not some kind of playboy, for your information!” exclaims Zen. Jumin looks up at him.

“I see,” he says, “Now, I’m not sure what logical leap you’ve been privately making over there, but rest assured, whatever you think I think of you is absolutely true.”

He’s messing with Zen, now.

“I mean, what do _you_ want us to be?” says Zen, and Jumin seems to think about it for a few seconds.

“I’m impartial,” he says, “I think we have very little compatibility as ‘friends,’” he lifts his hands from his book to put ‘friends’ in air quotes, “so a relationship seems a bit hasty, but I didn’t know if you were the sort of person to care about that sort of thing, so I asked.”

“And what does _that_ mean?” says Zen, tone accusatory, though this whole interaction has been pretty accusatory in general. They’re an accusatory pair.

“Well, I had reason to consider either possibility,” says Jumin, “You seemed to be trying very hard to forget the whole ordeal, but at the same time you _did_ agree to meet me here, which I doubt would happen if you were completely uninterested.”

“It’s not hard to be uninterested in you,” says Zen.

“And yet you’re still sitting here,” retorts Jumin.

“You’re a dick,” says Zen, “and you’re really not funny at all. Or interesting. Or nice.”

“I see,” says Jumin.

“It just makes me so, _ugh,_ to think that I—that you—that _we_ —” says Zen, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Jumin is sitting across for him, observing him curiously.

“So you’ve been thinking about it?” says Jumin, and if Zen didn’t know any better, he’d say that there was a smile forming on his stupid, terrible face. Just awful. The worst. “If it makes you feel better, it was ‘only a kiss.’ Of course, I suppose that comfort depends on how much you value a kiss.”

“If it was with you, not at all,” tries Zen. Jumin nods.

“Same here,” says Jumin, “It was, as Lucien or Yoosung would say, ‘wack.’”

Zen’s brain is short-circuiting again. “Did you just say ‘wack?’”

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to expand my vocabulary to something more current, in order to appear less stiff,” says Jumin, a man who is sitting in a coffee shop in a full suit. Had it been any other day, Zen is certain that said suit would be covered in pale cat hair. “Why are you still sitting here?”

“Why are _you?”_

“I believe I mentioned that I was waiting on a coffee?”

“Maybe I’m also waiting on a coffee.”

“I think that you’d have to order one in order to wait for it.”

“Die,” says Zen, “I just—nevermind your assumptions of me, what is this whole situation supposed to say about you, _Jumin Han?”_ He tries to say Jumin’s name as if that were an insult in itself. Jumin merely raises an eyebrow.

“That I don’t feel we’re compatible?” he says.

“No! It’s that you’re a playboy!”

“A playboy?”

“A playboy!”

Jumin seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose, from a certain perspective, it could look that way,” he says. “That said, I consider myself quite conservative with my sensuality.”

Hearing Jumin refer to his _sensuality_ in conversation is quite possibly the worst thing Zen has ever heard. Instead of abruptly vomiting, however, he stands his ground. His very thin, shaky ground. “Well you aren’t! And it’s weird that you’re pretending to be all professional about this situation and trying to say that _I_ don’t value a kiss or whatever. You—you’re weird!”

“Perhaps,” Jumin places his book down on the table, “we would benefit from a reevaluation of the incident. As I recall, it was _you_ who leaned in for the kiss, Zen.”

“Oh, fuck you! That’s not what this is about and you know it—” Zen begins, fully prepared to go into a tirade about how he was drunk and how Jumin was being weirdly _cool_ and how the moment was a particularly bizarre exception, as far as romance goes, but Jumin is just… looking at him. _“What?”_ he says, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m thinking,” Jumin says, and there is the briefest moment of blissful silence before he says, “I don’t find you unattractive,” and Zen once again feels as though he has just been shot.

“I’m sorry, _what_ —”

“As insufferable as your personality is, you are fairly handsome, and I was fairly drunk at the time,” says Jumin, “and so when you leaned in for the kiss, I was receptive.”

“God. Why are you doing this? Are you trying to kill me?”

“I’m merely analyzing the events of last weekend in order to paint a clearer picture of my character, since you insist I fit some kind of ‘playboy’ stereotype,” says Jumin. “Now, I will admit that my decision to introduce tongue to the kiss was very questionable, however—”

_“Stop!_ Stop! I get it! You can stop now!”

“Zen, you are making a scene,” Jumin appears serious at first, before a slight curve appears at the corner of his lips, and he blows some air out of his nose. “Though, I suppose that’s natural for an actor.”

“You’re not funny,” Zen says. God. Thinking about that night is—

(kind of hot)

—awful. What was he thinking? He has to live with the fact that Jumin’s tongue has been in his mouth forever now. This is a travesty.

“Zen,” says Jumin. “Was it such an unpleasant experience for you? Because if so, I—” he stops for a second, as if truly hesitant to say anything further, “I… am sorry.”

He’s _apologizing._ Holy shit. Zen just got an _apology._ Out of _Jumin._

“What was that?”

“I’m not going to say it again, especially since I was not initially responsible for the incident.” Holy shit. Jumin seems _flustered._ This is hilarious. And kind of adorable. Or, not adorable—Zen definitely did not refer to Jumin as adorable, but it’s like… well, it’s something, and Zen is all about it.

“No, no, say it! You can’t backpedal.”

“I am,” Jumin sighs, _“sorry_ for making you uncomfortable, if that was the case.”

“Oh, that’s good. I could get used to that.”

“That is an inherently weird statement to make, Zen. I believe you were arguing the point that I was ‘weird,’ earlier, and that only serves as incriminating evidence to your own ‘weirdness.” Jumin is turning a bit pink. “Where’s my coffee? Could you leave? I’d like to drink my coffee in peace.”

“It looks like it’s gonna take a while,” says Zen, “in the meantime, let’s review another point: you find me attractive?”

“Do not get me started, because I seem to remember that your hands certainly found themselves in some _interesting_ places that evening, and—”

“Okay, okay! Point made!” Zen interjects. A few seconds pass, and he lets out a confession. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just thought your apology was really funny.”

“I am going to kill you. I have the money to do so cleanly and without any trace to myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” says Zen, dismissive. “So, we’re agreed? We’re forgetting about the whole thing?”

Jumin nods. “It would be a service to the both of us. I mean, just imagine it. If we dated.”

Zen says, “Not possible.”

Jumin adds, “Completely incomprehensible.”

“Disgusting.”

“Terrible.”

“The worst.”

More silence. Extremely, wildly uncomfortable silence. The kind of silence that only occurs between parties with an _it’s complicated_ status on social media.

Zen tries not to think about the kiss, but, well, it’s not like he’s kissed that many people in his life—and Jumin happened to be much more skilled than expected, and it’s hard not to think about that. Zen has _barely_ ever kissed another person with tongue in his life, but Jumin was a total natural. A real team player.

And, well, he isn’t hideous. Kind of the opposite. There’s a reason this guy also models, Zen supposes. A cursory glance to Jumin only serves to confirm this. Sure, he’s pretentious and repulsive, but he does really pull that suit off. His hair looks soft (it _is_ soft. Zen remembers, because one of his hands ran through it when they kissed. The other hand was kind of preoccupied with things below the waist, but whatever. Not relevant, right now) and his skin is immaculate.

“It would be kind of funny,” says Zen, talking before thinking. “If we dated, that is.”

“Oh, it would be hilarious.”

“Maybe we’d do it for, like, a trial run. You know, if I can tolerate you for a _month,_ then you have to pay me some ridiculous amount of money.”

“That wouldn’t be much of a challenge at all. I’m very tolerable. And what would I get if you lost?”

“I have no idea. Maybe I’d have to do something stupid, like babysit Elizabeth or something—”

“Deal.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Oh?

“For real?” Zen says, incredulous. “You’d make this stupid bet on the off chance that I would have to watch your stupid cat?”

“Yes, absolutely. It would be hilarious.”

“Well,” says Zen, thinking about his impending sum of money and definitely _not_ thinking about Jumin’s tongue in his mouth, “Then we have a deal.”

“Certainly. We’ll need to work out the details a bit later, perhaps in a written contract—”

“I am not doing a fifty shades style contract with you.”

Jumin shakes his head. “Nothing like that. This would merely cover the terms of the wager, in order to ensure equal chances of winning for both parties. My affinities are none of your business”

“Um, I think they’re totally my business. I’m your trial-run boyfriend.”

This banter would probably go on forever, if not for the sudden presence of Jaehee, who clears her throat. Zen instantly jumps in his seat.

“How long have you been here?” he asks, instantaneously. Jaehee looks at him with some unholy combination of grief and amusement.

“Long enough,” she says, before turning to Jumin. “You ordered coffee?”

This, Zen thinks, is going to bite him in the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm questioning whether or not I'm actually going to go through with updating and maintaining a schedule with this fic, considering the fact that mysme isn't exactly my biggest interest at the moment and i'm fairly busy with zine work, but i figured there was no harm in sharing this first chapter and seeing what people liked of it.
> 
> this takes place after the mc/jaehee good ending, and they'll be a background pair for the rest of the fic! i didn't tag because they aren't substantial, but just know that they are lesbians and they are valid.
> 
> in the hypothetical that i do end up taking this fic seriously, just know the rating is subject to change. i don't exactly write porn on ao3 but i do have very funny takes about these two and the absolute virgin energy they exude.


	2. Amendment 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zen and Jumin discuss the terms and conditions of this very horrible idea.

Jumin _does_ draft up a written contract, and Zen, with a little more thinking, figures that it’s probably a good idea.

A guy like Jumin is probably used to having all of his commitments down in print, after all, and it would do them both well to establish the terms of this agreement. For a moment, Zen is concerned that he’s starting to think that Jumin has _good ideas,_ but the fact that he’s going through with this at all is cause for concern in and of itself, he supposes. This idea is distinctly stupid and horrible in every way, including but not limited to the fact that it involves _dating Jumin,_ but here Zen is, sitting in the waiting room of a C&R headquarters, glancing up at the clock every few minutes.

“Mr. Hyun?—wait, _Zen?_ ” a familiar voice calls out, and Zen looks up to see _Yoosung._ God, he nearly forgot that he was working as an intern for Jumin, these days.

Zen weighs his options, because he could just leave. He could go home and tell Yoosung that this was all a fluke, and then he could call Jumin and mumble a concession over his audibly smug aura.

Of course, that’s the quitter’s solution, so he stands and walks up to the door. Yoosung looks confused, before his expression breaks into a smile.

“Hi!” he says. “It’s good to see you! It’s been way too long. I mean, I know we talk in the RFA chatroom all the time, but that’s different—wait, why _are_ you here?”

Zen blinks. “It’s good to see you, too,” he says. He kind of hopes to skirt past the last question, but Yoosung’s eyes meet his and he just can’t _ignore_ this little guy, so he shrugs. “Jumin and I are going over the terms of a bet.” This technically isn’t a lie at all, and Zen likes to believe his acting ability is exceptional enough to pull it off. If not, Yoosung’s general trust and gullibility are _extremely_ liable to help him pull it off.

And it works. Yoosung’s curious look fades away and he simply smiles before leading Zen down the hallway. “Honestly, it is _so_ good to see you today. Working for Jumin is _hard_ —all of the clients and partners and staff that come in are so rich and I barely understand what they’re talking about.”

Zen nods. It’s a very brief, but very pleasant conversation with Yoosung, and that makes Zen think. He has such a normal life. It would be easy to just go back to that, and forget that he was briefly and horrifyingly attracted to Jumin for one night at a party nobody even remembers. He could just be himself, and he definitely wouldn’t have to think about the implications this has regarding his and Jumin’s sexualities—he wouldn’t have to consider the idea that he might be more attracted to men than he first thought; or that he was letting himself be perceived as a ladies man in order to compensate for that attraction. He certainly wouldn’t have to think about the fact that, at least at that point, he thought Jumin was just _so handsome_ —

And suddenly he’s standing at the door to Jumin’s office, and he thinks, _well, it’s not like those things are very important, anyway._ He says goodbye to Yoosung (at least for the next half hour or so) and inhales. Right. Zen is not a quitter—not in the slightest—and he’s near guaranteed to win this bet. Jumin will be lucky if he manages to avoid the inevitable fate of falling in love with Zen.

Right? That sounds right. It has to be right.

He knocks on the door. Jumin answers. “You’re on time,” he says. “A bit early, even.”

“Am I usually late?”

“No, actually. If anything, I have a hard time being punctual. I like to subscribe to the idea of being ‘fashionably late.’”

“You’re so pretentious,” Zen walks into the office, and it’s very… Jumin, or it seems like it at first. Neat and pristine, with frustratingly minimalist decorating choices. Zen has never really understood minimalism. It’s so boring. And Jumin is a lot of things—pretentious and annoying and condescending—but he isn’t _boring._ Not usually.

Ugh, since when did Zen have such a good idea of this guy’s character?

“Okay, so we’re drafting a contract?” he asks, desperate to distract himself from these complicated insights into Jumin Han—who swiftly walks over to his desk, the glass surface of which is held on white legs, carrying lots of paperwork and a too-expensive laptop. From the stack of paperwork, Jumin retrieves a few white pages.

“I’ve already started a draft,” he takes a seat, shutting the laptop and gesturing to the chair in front of the desk. “Take a seat.”

“You’re being so weird right now.”

“I’m being _professional,”_ says Jumin. “I know that’s a foreign concept to you, but I promise it’s a very useful skill. Now sit.”

Zen sits. He rolls his eyes, but he sits. Jumin slides the contract over. It’s in its own folder, and the pages are laminated. Jumin seems weirdly embarrassed about this.

“I had a lot of time,” he says, unprompted, “and we have a laminator in the office. So.”

“I see,” says Zen.

“I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t agonizing over this or anything. Far from. I was very unconcerned.”

“Right,” says Zen, opening the folder and reading over the contract. It’s long and very, very boring looking, but its contents are so off-the-wall ridiculous that Zen finds himself more intrigued than he does when reading other, more boring contracts, like his lease or his acting obligations. He looks up at Jumin. “Are you hiding something in here?”

“Wouldn’t that be hilarious? But no. It is a fully legitimate contract with no strings attached to it.”

“Hm.” Zen hums, examining each line carefully. He might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but he’s not stupid. He isn’t going to sign it before being acutely aware of everything in it. “Is a month really a long enough time frame?”

“What, you want to date for longer?”

“Ew, no,” says Zen, instantaneous. Still, he glances over at Jumin. “But, I mean, is that fair for you? I’m not sure that I’ll be tired of you by then. I don’t know if you knew this about me, but I can be very persistent.” He grins proudly. “I won’t give up so easily.”

“Oh, it’s very fair for me.” Jumin doesn’t miss a beat, and his expression reveals nothing in the realm of doubt or hesitance. “I’m very persistent myself, and I am _extremely_ confident in my ability to wear you down in a timely and orderly fashion.”

“Asshole.”

Insults aside, it’s a promising start to a wager. If Zen manages to win this, he’ll be able to buy so much stuff he doesn’t need, equipped with more money than any social media sponsorship would dare offer him. Jumin might be confident in his ability to be annoying—and he has proved a formidable foe in that respect—but Zen has worked with dozens of onstage divas, demanding directors, and… he shudders at the thought… _method actors…_

He’s got this. No question about it.

The rest of the contract is very comprehensive, and surprisingly absent of any obvious catches or red flags. Zen rereads parts of it two or three times over in order to make sure he’s got the full picture of this bet. He reads one _specific_ part over with visible annoyance. Jumin _has_ to know that he isn’t funny. Not in the slightest.

“Any more questions?”

Speaking of Jumin, he’s been oddly quiet this whole time. Just focusing on his own packets of paperwork, occasionally glancing over at Zen and then returning to his own business. Now, he sits with his hands folded, paperwork pushed to the side.

Zen is prepared. “Will we be open about this to the RFA? And, I mean, to what extent? Do we tell them that it’s a bet?”

“That,” says Jumin, “is left to our individual discretion. I would personally say yes to both, if only to avoid the complications that would arise should we try to keep it secret. Especially since Jaehee already knows, and I would assume MC by association.”

“Right,” says Zen. “I don’t disagree, but I’d prefer to keep it private from the larger public and stuff, if possible, especially since you’re—well— _you,_ you know?”

“Oh, of course. I wouldn’t want the press to think I would stoop so low as to date a B-list actor.”

“I could kill you.”

“And,” adds Jumin, a little more stilted this time, as if he’s trying to find the particular words for the thing he wants to describe. “I must admit that I’m hesitant to go public about my sexuality—I mean, that and my romantic life in general—bet or not. You understand.”

Internally, Zen _really_ understands this, because he’s hardly able to articulate his sexuality to himself. How is he supposed to explain fake dating a guy—Jumin Han, of all people—to anyone who isn’t one of his closest friends? And even now, he wonders how he’ll explain it to _his closest friends._ Externally, he says: “I mean, the tabloids wouldn’t exactly be _surprised_ —”

“Oh, shut up.”

Zen pauses. Maybe he and Jumin could talk about this, sometime? The sexuality stuff, at least. “Is it okay to ask you a personal question?” he tries.

“No.”

“Okay,” Zen knows when he’s overstepped; and he feels this subtle sense of regret at making fun of Jumin, which he _never_ feels. Ugh, empathy. He reviews another part of the contract. “It says that we’ll be meeting at least three times a week for ‘dates.’ This seems kind of… I dunno, we’re busy guys with jobs. You know what I mean?”

 _“I’m_ a busy man with a job. You act. Half of the time I talk to you, you aren’t doing anything,” says Jumin. “Though, I was wavering on this point as well. I feel as though we should have a minimum requirement of dates per week, if only to make this feel like an actual relationship, and to give the bet actual weight. If not, you could very much just avoid me whenever possible in order to make it easier on yourself.”

“You have a point,” Zen concedes. “I can probably make the space in my schedule, anyway.”

“As expected. And, on days where either of us are too busy, we’ll make exceptions. Though, I doubt those will come up very often. I’m my own boss, and you barely have a job.”

“You’re just trying to make this annoying before the bet has even started.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Okay, finally,” Zen holds up the contract, bemused. “This whole section about me falling in love with you? Strike it out.”

“Oh, you mean section 5: ‘Should Party A Develop Romantic Feelings For Party B?’” Jumin has a slight smirk on his face, which Zen has learned is his stupid signal for over-the-top amusement.

“Yeah. That one.”

“I’m just saying, it isn’t an _impossible_ outcome—”

“Not happening.”

“Alright,” Jumin says. “But don’t say I didn’t attempt to cover all possible bases.”

Zen rolls his eyes. “If anything, _you_ should be worried about falling in love with _me._ I’m super attractive, and very charming.”

“And just inundated with modesty, too. Oh, my heart hurts,” Jumin’s flat tone is unwavering.

“Like you have any right to talk.”

“I don’t need to be humble, I’m rich.”

“Whatever, jackass.”

From there, it’s mostly just slight edits to the contract in order to keep each side of the wager fair. The air of professionalism is only occasionally interrupted by a cheap jab or one of Jumin’s staff (usually Yoosung) dropping off more paperwork. When they finish, Zen leans back and yawns.

“That was so much _work,”_ he says.

“That is my job,” replies Jumin. “Well, a good portion of it. Other parts include going to meetings, generating business proposals, and flying out for lavish business trips.”

“You always make yourself sound like such a jerk, you know that? I don’t know anyone else with such an affinity for making themselves sound like an asshole.”

“Oh please. You are just as, if not more, prone to self aggrandizement.”

“Being beautiful and being rich are totally different things. Bragging about one is cool, bragging about the other is douchey.”

“And what does one do when they find themselves being beautiful _and_ rich?”

“Every word out of your mouth is like nails on a chalkboard.”

There’s a long pause, and Zen finds himself surprisingly void of things to say. Jumin, on the other hand, says, “You wanted to ask me a personal question, earlier?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

More silence.

“What _was_ the personal question?” prompts Jumin.

“Right. Uh,” Zen scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Are you… uh, I don’t know how to ask this and be delicate about it or whatever, but—” he just has to bite the bullet, “are you gay?”

Jumin blinks, and then there’s more silence. Very uncomfortable silence. “I’m not quite sure,” he says, quieter than before. “I know that I’m attracted to men, and that I’m… less comfortable with women, I suppose. That’s all I can really say.”

“Right,” says Zen. “I—uh—thanks. And sorry for asking, I guess.”

“Are you?”

“I dunno, man. It’s complicated. I don’t like to think about it for very long.”

Jumin nods, and for a second, Zen feels kind of like he could understand Jumin, for just a second. And not only because they made out for like a solid minute at a party once, but because they’ve both been grappling with these overly complicated matters of sexuality for who knows how long, and now they’ve been kind of forced to confront it. That means something. Not much, of course—Zen still hates the guy—but it means something.

Jumin checks his watch. “Alright, out of my office.”

“I—what?”

“The wager will officially be put into action on the first of next month. I’ll see you then. Now, out of my office.”

“Oh my God, you think that someone would have taught you _manners_ at some point in your life,” says Zen. “Seeya.”

“Goodbye,” says Jumin. “I look forward to the future catsitting.”

“I look forward to my bank transfer!”

Right, thinks Zen. This is going to be easy money, and it’ll barely even change anything. It’ll be one stupid month of his life that makes him a little bit richer.

But man, it’s hard not to think about that second of kinship he felt with Jumin.

Gross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASMR: i update this fic after almost a year of forgetting it existed.
> 
> i had been meaning to update this for a while because, contrary to my very irregular update pattern, i am still very fond of it. also, i looked in the list of kudos and EEK and artist i really like from an entirely different fandom left kudos on it and i was like :0 how cool am i right?
> 
> anyway, see you next time i suppose!


	3. Amendment 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zen works out the events of that night, and only commits small acts of bribery.

“And it’s just that I would have appreciated a  _ warning _ from my agent that management would be this bad, you know what I mean?” Very-Drink-Zen is complaining about an acting gig for a play that he worked on recently. “It’s good exposure, but I don’t know. I just feel like this director is a huge pain,” he sighs.

Very-Drunk-Jumin replies, “It sounds very frustrating.”

The thing about drinking is that it has this wide range of effects on different RFA members. It makes Yoosung loud and sensitive, it makes 707 sad, it used to make Jaehee want to quit her job (until she  _ actually _ quit her job), but it seemingly just makes Jumin Han quiet, but sociable.

When Zen is drunk, he’s mostly the same as always, if a bit more friendly. Hence why this conversation with known enemy Jumin Han is going so well. The party is nice, absolutely booming with MC’s and Jaehee’s friends from outside the RFA. It’s a late night housewarming party for the two of them, and they seem to be enjoying themselves chatting away. Zen had noticed Jaehee talking to Jumin earlier tonight, and had stepped in to save her—Jumin isn’t her boss anymore, she doesn’t need to pretend to like him—by taking charge of the conversation. A real hero, Zen is. Of course, now he’s trapped himself in conversation with Jumin. You win some,  you lose some.

“The wine here is good,” says Jumin, swirling the liquid around in his glass. “I purchased it. As a housewarming gift. It’s aged very well.”

“That’s just your wine at that point. You just brought it here so you could drink it later.”

Jumin hums, considering this for a moment. “I suppose you’re right,” he says, shrugging, before taking another sip. “Next time, I’ll have to bring something that I’m sure MC or Miss Kang would like.”

“I’m pretty sure you can just call Jaehee by her name.”

“Oh, I don’t know. That might be a bit fast, right?” Jumin looks to be actually thinking about how other people feel. “I feel like I… what’s the term? I’m a little…”

“Drunk?”

“Exactly,” Jumin responds. “And, aside from that, I feel like I didn’t do… right, by Miss Kang, I suppose. I don’t know if she’d consider me much of a friend, at least not at the moment. That’s something I would have to earn. I think that’s how it’s supposed to work, anyway.”

“Huh,” says Zen. “I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s surprisingly… thoughtful. Not at all something I would expect from Mr. Trust Fund.”

“I can’t help but feel like that is something of a backhanded compliment.”

“It is.”

“At least you’re honest.” Jumin says, taking a moment to set out a coaster and place his glass down on the coffee table. He and Zen are just standing in the middle of the living room, basically, to the right of the sofa. The place is pretty crowded, after all—lots of guests from past RFA parties sought to talk with MC again—and it kind of feels like its own little world, this conversation. Everyone is so detached from each other, enjoying their own drama or lack thereof, and Jumin and Zen are part of that. It’s an interesting atmosphere.

When Jumin comes back to full standing after putting his cup down, it’s almost comical how tall he is. He’s only an inch taller than Zen—and Zen is very fond of heel inserts to make himself taller, so he’s sometimes a few inches shorter—but still.

The conversation has sort of reached a very awkward lull. It isn’t  _ bad _ silence, but Zen has no idea what to do with it, and so he keeps talking. “Hey. I know I made fun but it’s… nice, that you want to earn Jaehee’s trust or whatever.”

“Thank you,” says Jumin. He seemingly glances over Zen’s shoulder to see Jaehee and MC talking amongst themselves. The slightest of smiles appears on his face and—wow—Zen never sees this guy smile. It’s almost charming. “It was… difficult, for me to realize that I was perhaps not the  _ best _ employer, but I’m glad to see her so joyful. I’m happy for her.”

“Right,” says Zen. Is it just him, or is Jumin being uncharacteristically chill? And, maybe it’s just the lighting or the fact that Zen is inebriated, but he looks sort of handsome, too. “Hey,” says Zen.

Reminder: he is very drunk.

“Yes?” replies Jumin.

Reminder: they are both very drunk.

Zen places a hand on Jumin’s shoulder. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

The complete opposite of sober.

“Oh.” Jumin blinks. His face is flushed. “I don't. Well. Yes. If you’d like to.”

_ So _ drunk.

“Alright.” Zen leans in for the kiss, his hand shifting from Jumin’s shoulder to the side of his face. Jumin closes his eyes. Zen does the same. At first, it’s a very light brush of their lips—Jumin’s are very soft—before they both open their eyes, process what’s happening, and Zen leans in again.

Maybe two, three drinks away from alcohol poisoning.

Now, the kiss is more intense. Jumin is very enthusiastic, surprisingly enough, and… sort of very good at this? He darts his tongue over Zen’s lower lip, and he sort of  _ moves _ with Zen, in that way where someone allows themselves just enough give to make the motions of kissing—which can be pretty awkward, a lot of the time—feel very natural. Zen lets his other hand wander a bit, trailing over Jumin’s spine and then, to put it delicately, just squeezing his ass. You know, as you do. Jumin makes a  _ sound _ at that which is really fascinating, by the way—

“Ahem.”

Zen may have forgotten to add the reminder, but they are so drunk. So, so drunk.

MC is standing there. MC is standing there, and she has presumably witnessed them getting acquainted. Has possibly been watching them kiss for the last almost-minute. Jumin has the audacity to push Zen away before Zen can push him.

And from there, the memory gets sort of foggy, because there were a  _ lot _ of excuses hurled at very fast speeds, and Zen is pretty sure that Jumin immediately calls for a car out of there in order to avoid making eye contact. Or really any contact. With anyone. Zen remembers waking up on MC and Jaehee’s new couch, hungover and horrified to find that he had made a note which said “jumin han is a good kisser?” (a reasonable translation from “junim han kis goop?”) in his phone. The night hits him all at once at that point and— _ God _ —how is he ever going to forget that? How is anyone ever going to forget that?

Shit.

* * *

“And now we’ve got this stupid bet going on, so,” says Zen. “You see the predicament.”

He and Jaehee are sitting on the same couch that Zen slept on that night. Jaehee is drinking a coffee, her eyebrows knitted together as she finishes taking a sip. “That was certainly excellent storytelling,” she concedes.

“Why, thank you.”

“That said,” she adds. “I feel like it’s… missing some things?”

“Oh really? Like what?” Zen asks.

“Well, I feel like some parts could be elaborated on. Like, for example… you’re gay?”

“No, I’m attracted to women.”

“Ah, so bisexual? Something in that vein?”

“No, it’s just kind of weird right now. I don’t want to focus on that.” Zen taps his fingers on the arm of the chair. He checks his phone. This conversation feels like it’s been going on for a very long time, suddenly.

“Alright…” Jaehee says. “Well, moving on, I find myself a bit confused on the  _ why _ of it all. Like,  _ why _ you kissed Jumin, for example.”

“Ah,” replies Zen. A few seconds pass as he formulates an answer. “I’m not sure. I was just drunk—did I tell you that I was drunk?”

“Several times, yes.”

“I was drunk,” he says. “And Jumin was… there. And way cooler than he usually is. And, I. Uh. Well.” See, Zen was about to go into some other stuff. Like, how if Jaehee was  _ there,  _ if she had seen the way he smiled, if she had felt the odd sort of chemistry in the air, if she had been exactly as drunk as Zen was, she just might have kissed him too. Probably not, of course, but she’d feel like doing so. Zen does not say these things. They have implications. About how Zen feels about Jumin's  _smile,_ and other irrelevant things.

“I see,” says Jaehee. “And now you’re just… going to date him? For a bet?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

Zen shifts, slightly uncomfortable. “MC told you about the kiss the night it happened, right?”

“She did. It was a very odd day for the both of us,” Jaehee replies. “Though, I told her everything I had overheard about your bet after I got back behind the counter, so it’s about even.”

“Right,” says Zen. “We decided that we were going to make sure the rest of the RFA was in on it, since you both already know everything.”

“It would also be a good idea in terms of accountability,” she says. “RFA members could make sure things were fair on both sides.”

“Oh, huh. You might have a point there.”

“Jumin is very good with planning.” Jaehee takes another sip from her coffee. “I know this is a bit unrelated, but I have to ask: does Jumin actually call me  _ Miss Kang, _ now?”

“Oh yeah. I was surprised. I think it’s because he’s so used to Assistant Kang.”

“I have to admit, the Jumin you describe in the story is very sweet. I almost forget that he was an absolute nightmare to work for.”

“See! You can understand why Drunk Zen was so… you know.”

“I absolutely cannot, and I would have appreciated a little less detail on the details of your kiss.”

“Speaking of which, does Jumin date often or something? He was, and I don’t want you to judge me for saying this—judgement free zone, like a smoker’s anonymous meeting— _ way _ too good at kissing, and I always pictured him as sort of a celibate old guy.”

“He is only a year older than me,” says Jaehee. “And, no, Jumin doesn’t enjoy dating in the slightest. Or talking to women. Or being in the same room as other people for extended periods of time. There  _ is _ an explanation for…  _ that, _ if I recall correctly, but it’s his private business, and not something I’m keen on sharing without his permission.”

“Dude, he isn’t your boss anymore.”

“True, but he is  _ your _ boyfriend, apparently. Why don’t you ask him?”

Zen shudders. “Don’t say such horrifying things. I don’t have to start thinking of him as my  _ boyfriend _ until… never, really—but you know. I don’t have to  _ act _ like he is until next month.”

“Right,” says Jaehee. “How do you expect to tolerate him for a full month if you can’t even think of him as your boyfriend for a few seconds.”

“That’s different. My plan to tolerate him for a full month is very solid.”

“Is it?”

“Yep,” says Zen. “He might be insufferable, but I’m not in the market to lose. It can’t be that hard, anyway. He even has a clause in the contract to say that he can’t do anything  _ excessive _ to make me lose, so it’s not like I’ll have to look at his stupid cat or anything.”

“I suppose. Though, I’d be careful to check if Jumin has any aces up his sleeve. He can be very tenacious.”

“So can I,” says Zen. “And besides, what’s the worst he can do? He might be annoying, but usually he’s just awkward. And weird. He just likes talking about his cat and his boring rich people stuff.”

Silence. Zen looks up to see Jaehee staring at him.

“What?”

“It’s just. I don’t know. You seem very confident in this interpretation of Jumin. It’s… mostly correct,” says Jaehee. “You forget to acknowledge that he has a… playful side? If that makes sense.”

“Playful?” Associating that word with Jumin is almost gross. Zen makes a face.

“Sometimes. Usually when it comes to Elizabeth the 3rd, or the RFA, when he thinks he can be funny.” Jaehee shakes her head. “I worked for him for too long. It’s made me an expert on Jumin-isms.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here! You have to be my ally, Jaehee,” Zen says. “Jumin can’t surprise me if I’ve already got an asset on my side.”

“Absolutely not. I may not work for Jumin anymore, but he is still my colleague, and I don’t feel comfortable talking about him where he isn’t aware; and besides, that goes _directly against_ my suggestion that the RFA work to keep your arrangement fair—”

“Tickets to my next show. Front row. On the house. You can bring MC and make a day out of it.”

“Would you like to start with the incriminating stories from his youth, or his preferred topics of conversation when in a bad mood?”

Zen grins. Success.

Jumin doesn’t stand a chance.

* * *

“So you see,” says Jumin, reclining in his desk chair with a sigh after recounting the events of MC and Jaehee’s housewarming party, “this is why I need your help conspiring against Zen.”

Yoosung blinks. This is far too much for him to process all at once. Jumin and Zen?  _ Kissing? _ And…  _ dating? _   For a bet? He has to talk to Seven about this, at least to work it all out in his head. Wait, he isn’t talking. Yoosung should probably talk. Maybe even ask questions about what led them to this point, and if his friends are in any danger of entering a bizarre romantic tangle of emotions from which there is barely any escape. Or if this will involve any lying and/or duplicity when it comes to either of them, since he certainly doesn’t want to hurt either of his friends for what seems to be an extremely stupid reason.

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is: “And you’ll pay me overtime?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quarantine has been giving me brainrot and so all i've been thinking about for the past few days are these bastards. here's a funky little chapter three. next chapter we'll get to the actual bet, probably.
> 
> i've also decided that jumin and zen's Mutual Gay Panic will be a pretty important plot point for the fic. you'll see that in future chapters, hopefully.


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